


maybe i'm the lucky one

by stellarisms



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Manga Spoilers, or something like it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:53:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarisms/pseuds/stellarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only seven things that ever compromised Killua to the point where he'd call them "weaknesses."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cold weather

**Author's Note:**

> It's several hours (in this timezone) too late for Killua's birthday, but it's the thought that counts? Right? Right.

Just because he’s been conditioned to feel it doesn’t mean he enjoys the cold.

Killua hates it. 

When the temperatures drop, his mood plummets. 

He gets irritable, less inclined to talk or make smarmy remarks like usual. 

His stamina’s lower than usual, too, lethargy creeping up on him faster than it would in the summer’s worst heat.

( _But nothing could be worse than being_ _held down, outran, and knowing what’s coming: the branding stick made from scorched iron searing into skin, marking him,_ _by the hand that feeds and the hand that retreats only after reminding the boy that if he couldn’t endure this, if he couldn’t learn from the pain administered, then he didn’t deserve to carry the Zoldyck name let alone become their—_ )

Still, Killua hums past chapped lips to watch the smoke trails of his shuddering exhale drift around snow flurries, he can handle it.

A little cold means nothing to him.

 


	2. chocolate

When in doubt, chocolate’s the answer.

It’s natural course.  Given the choice of an entire list of flavors, Killua always picks chocolate. 

It took an accident to make it happen. 

Well, more like a mistake - if not two. 

Sneaking out of the estate to try and explore past their sprawling mountainside front yard was his first mistake.

The second was imagining it impossible for his father to exact discipline on him.

By direct means, anyway.

( _But nothing tasted better, tasted sweeter, than biting into a Choco-Robo for the first time, the third and fourth and fifth piece no less inviting than th second, because he could barely believe there wasn’t any poison lacked in the morsels wrapped in that shiny wrapped package, no consequences or tricks or regrets to be found here except—_ )

Nothing, Killua resolved from a young age, tasted better than chocolate.

 


	3. rhythms

 

The steady pulse of sound is what pulls him from his thoughts, makes him stop and stare.

Leorio has a good laugh when he realizes where Killua’s eyes have wandered to, clasps the silver-haired teen’s shoulder with one hand and points out the noticeable swell to the dancing street performer’s hips with the other.

Kurapika has a faint shimmer to his quiet eyes, a fondness that Killua hardly recognizes on him, when he explains the terms and finer workings of the symphonic band’s composition: melodies, harmonies, pianissimos into fortissimo leading to chorusing crescendos.

Gon has, as usual, nothing of substance to offer.

(But he perks up when Killua comments that _at least your rhyming didn’t suck_ and plunges right into the next round and, ridiculous and off-key as the little song about cleaning is, Killua starts repeating after him when the other Hunter insists on it and even pens a couple new verses himself, if only because the beat keeps in time with their footsteps—)

Traveling as long as he has, Killua’s begun to think there’s a certain magic to music that not even the strongest Nen can replicate.

 


	4. promises

They’re heavy.

He grunts and groans and gasps out audible complaints to Alluka about them as they stumble through the elevator doors chiming open (fina-friggen-lly) but his sister pays his bemoaning little mind.

She’s got a real big bundle to carry herself, boxes stacked higher than her sunfreckled nose.

"You promised, Big Bro!"  Alluka huffs out at length, more winded than Killua expects.  "So I bought as many as we could carry back up to our room."

"We’re not even gonna be here longer than a day," he points out as they reach their floor, a halfhearted warning winding down the empty hotel corridors.  "If you don’t eat it all by the time we board the train tomorrow morning—"

( _They have a long way to go, he knows, and they’re still so young - so if there isn’t the time for the sightseeing and camaraderie and enjoyment that Alluka wants, that Alluka deserves, then Killua swears upon his once unshakeable resolve that he’ll make it happen the next town they travel to,_ _if not the next after that, or the next-next one after **that** —_)

"I know," Alluka sighs, dropping the candy boxes without ceremony in front of their suite, though there’s a knowing in the smile she sends her brother.  "Thanks for keeping your promise."

 


	5. compliments

No one means what they say.

Lies and self-indulgence are built into everything people do. 

In how they act, in how they react.   

Insincerity is what motivates even the greatest acts of kindness.

Learning that much helped him get through his more rebellious years - then and later - and taught him how to grow up without being, as Grandpa Zeno always called it, “compromised.”

Twelve years leading into thirteen years later, Killua starts to wonder about the nature of compliments.

( _That trick was…so cool…can you show me how to do that?_

_You’re amazing, Killua!  I couldn’t ever think that quick on my feet._

_If I could choose how I’d be reborn…I’d want to be me and meet you again._ )

Thirteen years into fourteen years later, Killua starts to wonder why compliments from Gon never feel anything less than genuine.

 


	6. shopping

Crowded places have never really been Killua’s thing.

But, while traveling or sticking around with the locals for a bit, he likes getting lost in a marketplace every once in awhile. 

He likes spotting the similarities and differences between them. 

He likes wandering through the narrow alleyways, perusing through open verandas for a vendor’s local wares and specialty items.

He likes getting lost in the streams of people, likes disappearing if only to reappear after some time, likes being able to return to the group, a bagful of souvenirs in tow.

( _Live alone, die alone - that’s how the Zoldycks work, how the family legacy’s remained alive for as long as it has._

_"But is that all there is," Canaria’s whisper of a cadence flutters overhead as she leans forward, "Master Killua?_ ”

_Even now, he has no answers._ )

But what he does have, what he carries in his pockets, are mementos of the time he’s spent free to roam wherever his trusty bazaar-bought shoes can take him.

 


	7. promises (ii)

_Don’t walk too far ahead, Kil._

Years after he’s left that dark place they hailed home, he remembers their conversation.

_I know, I know…just far enough for you to catch up, right, Aniki?_

He remembers their first ever sparring session that followed, recalls the verbal jabs sooner than the physical blows.

_You know that’s what Mother would want, too._

If anything, Killua considers it a milestone for them.

_Oh, so you’re her messenger now?_

A memory buried deep and carried prouder than most would expect.

_I made a promise to look after you while she was away.  Besides, you know I’d do anything to help you._

Never once did Killua believe in those words.

_Don’t gimme that crap…the only person you’re looking out for is yourself!_

For all of Illumi’s twisted machinations and deluded perceptions of what constituted for brotherly affection, Killua would never forget what he told him that day.

_But aren’t we all looking out for ourselves in the end?_

For all their disagreements, that was the one and only thing Killua agreed with Illumi on.

Before and after he let Illumi get into his head.

 


	8. early morning hours

Sleep is a commodity.

He sleeps out of necessity, not because he needs it. 

He sleeps “enough” for his body’s purposes - usually whatever amount of hours fulfill the last of his altered circadian cycles.

His body’s grown used to a kind of soldier’s sleep - “enough” to recharge any aches or pains that linger.

Until he starts to sleep beside someone else, Killua sleeps “enough” and no more than that.

( _Killua?_

_Yeah?_

_Can we stay up and talk for a little bit?  
_

_Aren’t we already doing that?_

_Technically, yeah.  But I mean…I don’t feel like going back to sleep so…let’s watch the first sunrise of the year together?_

_Never pegged you for the romantic type._

_Mm, I’m not really sure if it’s “romantic,” but— it’s the first sunrise I get to watch with Killua, so…it’s important to me._

_Tch, suit yourself.  I was planning on staying up ‘till they serve breakfast downstairs, but I guess this is a better way to pass the time _, so q-_ quit smirking like that, you big—!  
_

_You look pretty happy yourself._

_S…S-Shut up or I’m gonna lie down and go back to sleep without you._ )

As it turns out, the morning hours are a great time.

Spending them like this, especially, keeps the nightmares at bay.

Then again, the color of fading stardust in Gon’s eyes and the dawn’s brightening hues setting Gon’s cheeks aglow make Killua feel more awake - and more alive - than any strong cup of coffee ever could.

 


	9. conversations

In Leorio, he sees a softer soul than the doctor-to-be likes to lets on.

(In a way, Killua understands.  He doesn’t fancy letting anyone in too close or too sure, but he gets it.

Meeting someone who teaches you kindness can have that effect.)

In Kurapika, he senses a greater rage than even the Kurta is aware he possesses.

(Once upon a time, Killua was the same way.  Angry.  Vengeful.  Trapped by his own devices.

Chasing something that’s far out of reach has the power to do that.)

In Hisoka, he discovers the double-edged blade called talent.

(Its aftereffects and implications, Killua will think much later, are only as dangerous as the one who wields it.)

In Bisky, he finds a mirror image of a mentor figure he’d long forgotten.

(Though Grandpa Zeno is even older than their mentor appears sans her Nen glamour, she’s just as wise.

Wiser, perhaps, than someone like Killua could ever have asked for.)

In Palm, he learns there’s a difference between dedication and devotion.

(Dedication is willpower, a choice dictated by the body and mind. 

Devotion is what resonates when the heart chooses - speaks - for you.)

In Ikalgo, he entrusts companionship to get them through these dark times.

(Hopeless as their circumstances are, desperate as their situations continue to be, they survive this ordeal.

No more or less survivors than when they began.)

And in Gon, from Gon, Killua learns.

Killua learns so much.

( _Here,_ Killua’s throat works to desperately coax out something or another to make Gon turn around, to face him, to spark anything in those lifeless eyes, _I’m right here, you idiot._

 _Stop trying to take all the blame for yourself,_ Killua wants to cry out, almost yells across the growing chasm between them as Gon steps toward the watchtower where Pitou awaits them, _when none of this was your fault in the first place._

 _You’re wrong_ , Killua swallows down the bitter admission along with the brine that builds behind his shuddering eyelids, bites his lip because he knows Gon won’t listen just as he can’t say it, _it means everything to me—_

_**You** _ _mean everything to me—_

_Always have and always—_ )

He’s learned more than he can express in words, that’s for sure.

 


	10. promises (iii)

Whale Island has any number of strange customs.

They borrow a ton of customs from the olden days, apparently, and long-forgotten cultures. 

So it’s no surprise that the people feel a bit mixed up to Killua from the first midsummer’s day he spends out exploring the island with Gon to the balmy September morning of their departure to Yorkshin.

It’s no surprise he’s a bit bewildered, too, when Gon drags him out to the portside with no real explanation for the festival they’re about to attend.

"They have a ton of different food stands and lots of games."  Gon hasn’t stopped running his mouth the whole time they’re there, tugging Killua along by his yukata sleeve even after they’ve gotten used to the layout.  "There’s even a fireworks display once it gets dark!"

"I’ve never seen fireworks before," Killua admits, looking at the ground.

Until he nearly crashes into Gon, anyway.

"What the hell," Killua squawks, more startled by the sudden seriousness to Gon’s expression than the abrupt stop.  "At least give a guy some kind of warning—!"

"Now that I think about it, the moon’s pretty high up."  _He’s not even listening_ , Killua rolls his eyes, exasperated — and then Gon’s back to pulling at his sleeve.  “C’mon, Killua.  Let’s hurry.”

_Hurry where_ is about all that Killua stammers out before he’s yanked along the path leading uphill.

_Fireworks_ , Killua’s tone is exasperated when they finally reach the top, _where?_

When the whistlecrash _bang_ noise directs him to where the show begins, that’s when Killua realizes.

It’s not Whale Island that’s mixed up.

Nor is Gon’s attempt at explaining the goddesses or lovers or whatever that are believed to watch over wishing parties from the stars, either.

(It’s his smile, the strange little curving shape of it around little rows of teeth and gums and lips smeared with candied apple; it’s the sparkle like sunlight that sets into those ridiculously big eyes of his, ever brilliant and ever constant; it’s _Gon_ that makes him this mixed-up inside, stubborn and softhearted Gon, with his thirst for adventure and penchant for attracting trouble of all kinds, and that grin alone makes the flashes of light across the sky pale in comparison to the revelation, the sudden lurch from head to heart that makes him realize—)

"Happy birthday," says Gon, greens and golds washing over his smiling face soon giving way to blooming pinks that fold into the spaces between their fingertips twining together, "Killua."

(The day that Killua turns thirteen is the same day he promises to never let go of the hand that Gon held out to him then, that touched him so gentle and hesitant, as Killua’s grips his back.

The day that Killua turns thirteen, he makes the first - and only - promise that he’s ever able to keep.)

 


End file.
